


The Way of the Seven Sighs

by downlookingup



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downlookingup/pseuds/downlookingup
Summary: Seven ficlets for Jaime & Brienne Appreciation Week.





	1. Honor

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [El camino de los siete suspiros](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8137831) by [downlookingup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/downlookingup/pseuds/downlookingup). 



> I'm a translator IRL, but I've never translated my own fiction before. I've always heard it said that it's a bad idea for an author to translate her own work, and it's definitely true. I had to resist the urge to fix things and change others. (I failed mostly.) So if you speak both Spanish and English, maybe give it a read in both languages?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime tries to protect Brienne's honor one last time.

Jaime pressed his lips against Brienne’s, and Brienne felt like she would faint. She had wanted him for so long, but she had ever allowed herself to hope she could have him, the most handsome man in the Seven Kingdoms, who was now pushing her against the wall with his whole body as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from her. The golden hand remained motionless on her waist, but the other hand, the one made of flesh and blood, ran over her chest, cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples. The heat she felt all over her body and the dampness in her smallclothes were almost unbearable.

Suddenly, Jaime stopped and rested his forehead against hers. This far from the feast, all she could hear was his stuttering breathing.

“Ser?”

Jaime caressed her scarred cheek with tenderness.

“We shouldn’t continue, my lady.”

Brienne turned away from him. Tears stung her eyes. _You’re a fool,_ she thought, angrily. _He doesn’t love you._ _It’s only the wine._ She tried to pull away, but Jaime halted her.

“Listen to me, you stubborn wench,” he growled. “It isn’t that I don’t want you.”

He grabbed her hand and thrust it between his legs. Brienne felt Jaime’s cock, rigid and hot under her fingertips, and she gasped.

“You have no idea how much I want you. But it’s not honorable. No matter how badly I want to, we will not fuck against a wall as if you were a camp follower.”

Brienne’s cheeks flamed. No, it wasn’t honorable, but Brienne was sick of honor and oaths. Oaths had kept her apart from Jaime more than once, and honor would not keep her from having him just this once. She fisted his hair and kissed him, while her other hand stroked him over his breeches. Jaime moaned in her mouth and pulled away once again.

“Brienne, be my wife,” he said, breathlessly. “I’ll take you to the marriage bed the way the gods intended. We’ll fuck all night and, in the morning, we’ll fuck again. All of Winterfell shall hear how the Maid of Tarth’s walls are knocked down again and again.”

Brienne thought she’d never stop blushing. “Do you really want to marry me?”

Jaime took her hands and kissed them. He had never been so gentle with her, and Brienne felt her eyes filling with tears. “I love you, Brienne. I’ve loved you since... I don’t know when. Since I gave you Oathkeeper, or perhaps since we fought on that bridge in the Riverlands.” He laughed. “You almost killed me, though I deserved it.”

“No, ser. You didn’t deserve it,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t know you then.”

Jaime smiled gratefully. “What do you say, wench? I know I don’t have much to offer you...”

“You offer me more than I ever thought to hope for.” Finally, the tears escaped her eyes, rolling down her cheeks like rivers. “I will be your wife.”

Jaime sighed and wrapped his arm around her waist. “That’s a relief. I thought you’d turn me down.”

“That’s not possible. I feel as though I’ve loved you forever.”

Jaime grinned and kissed her, and Brienne let herself sink into his arms again.


	2. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is dying to get home.

Jaime sighed, collapsing on the desk nearest the classroom door. “Brienne, it’s almost four.”

“I’ll be done in a minute,” she said, without looking at him. Her red pencil flew over the page, underlining passages, crossing out words, and writing comments in the margins. Each essay took her approximately fifteen minutes; Jaime had been keeping time.

“We’re going to miss the train,” Jaime warned. “We’ll have to wait until six.”

Brienne nodded, but instead of stopping, she took another essay and continued her meticulous grading.

It was Friday, and Jaime was dying to get home and take the wench’s clothes off, piece by piece. That day, Brienne was wearing a very tight, black pencil skirt which hugged her wide curves and showed off her delicious ass. She’d paired it with a blue, silk blouse that matched her eyes. It was a rather conservative outfit—the skirt hit her below the knees and the blouse had long sleeves—but Jaime hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her all day. Every time they had crossed paths in the hallway, Jaime had stared after her, hypnotized by the swing of her hips as she walked away.

Jaime suspected some of the students were starting to notice. In the third year English class, Margaery Tyrell had asked, with false naivety, if Mr. Lannister thought blue was a good color on Ms. Tarth.

“I think Ms. Tarth is the kind of woman who doesn’t care what a man thinks of her outfits,” Jaime had answered, before steering the conversation towards the book they were discussing that afternoon. Margaery had laughed delightedly, and the whispers in the back of the classroom continued until the bell.

When they began dating, Jaime had thought it would be easy to separate his romantic relationship with Brienne from their professional relationship. In practice, it was more complicated. At school, Brienne’s unpretentious sensuality distracted him, and at home, at his or hers, they argued about the curriculum or the historical accuracy of a play Jaime was staging with his drama students. Many times, they ended the arguments by having loud sex on the sofa or on a table, before one of them conceded defeat.

Jaime had spent an hour begging her to leave, and she still hadn’t listened to him. _Maybe it’s time for a different strategy_ , he thought.

He got up and stood behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. The essay she was grading looked like it was bleeding from so many revisions. It was about Aegon the Unlikely’s agricultural reform, and the author kept referring to him as “Egon”. Every time she stumbled on another “Egon”, Brienne let out a sigh before circling it with her red pencil.

Jaime leaned in until his lips were next to her ear.

“Don’t you think that’s enough?” he whispered, as he massaged her shoulders, kneading the knots that had formed in her muscles.

Brienne sighed deeply, but continued.

“I have a duty as a teacher to grade these papers in time,” she said, stubborn as ever. “I promised the girls I’d have the essays back by Monday.”

“The Others take duty. One more day isn’t going to kill them,” Jaime said. “I, on the other hand, am about to die of a stroke. That skirt you’re wearing is driving me crazy.” To drive his point home, he bit her earlobe.

Just like he’d intended, Brienne’s pale and freckled skin flushed and her red pencil stopped in its tracks.

“Not here, Jaime.”

“Then, let’s go, or I can’t be held liable for my actions.”

Jaime tugged at the collar of her blouse until her long neck was bared, and he kissed it, biting the delicate skin softly while Brienne struggled to suppress her moans.

In no time at all, Brienne had gathered the essays and locked them in her desk. They left the classroom in a hurry. If they rushed, they could catch the 3:30 train. The faster they got home, the better.

As they left the school, they bumped into Margaery, who looked at them with the smugness of someone who knows she has been right all along. Jaime knew how strange it was to see two teachers leaving together. They’d always been careful to arrive and leave in their own cars, but Jaime didn’t care today.

“I don’t blame you, mister,” Margaery said. “Not with that skirt...”

Brienne hurried towards the car, her face red, and Jaime grinned at Margaery before running after her.


	3. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne discovers the dangers of sunblock.

At the end of the semester, Brienne and Jaime had decided, in the spur of the moment, to buy two tickets to the Summer Islands and spend a week at a five-star beach resort. She had never been so impulsive in her life. Maybe that was why she’d agreed; she was drawn by how dangerous and exotic it was to do something without thinking twice about it. She’d even bought a blue bikini for the occasion, simply because she’d never done it before.

They were on the beach, under the scorching sun of the Singing Stones. In the distance, the cliffs that gave the island its name let out a beautiful whistle. At any other time, Brienne would have been entranced listening to that strange song, but Jaime was distracting her.

He was sitting on the lounge chair next to hers, putting sun protector on his chest. His fingers slid over his pecs, descending slowly until reaching his sculpted abs. Then he moved to his muscular arms, and Brienne swallowed thickly. _Gods, why does he have to be so gorgeous?_

It wasn’t the first time she saw her roommate shirtless, but it _was_ the first time she watched him so closely and for so long, and Brienne thanked the gods for the large sunglasses she was wearing. If she kept the book open on her lap, she could pretend she wasn’t staring.

Suddenly, the bottle of sunblock was under her nose.

“Can you put it on my back?” Jaime asked.

Brienne nodded clumsily. Jaime stretched out face down on the chair, and Brienne sat on the edge.

Her hands shook as she opened the bottle. Even his back was muscular. Brienne knew hers was also well-defined, but it looked manly and attractive on him, while her back was unfeminine and even a little repulsive.

She didn’t want to think about that. She poured lotion on Jaime’s back and began to spread it with the tips of her fingers. When she reached a particular spot on his back, Jaime let out a groan that startled her.

“I have a knot there. Can you get it out?”

Brienne had no choice but to knead the muscle, putting up with Jaime’s moans until they sounded more indecent than they really were.

Finally, she was done and returned to her chair, wiping her hands with a towel and picking her book up again.

“You’re not putting any on?” Jaime asked.

Brienne shook her head. “Later,” she mumbled.

“No, now. You’ll burn. You’re starting to look like a boiled lobster already.”

He was right. Her skin was so pale that, after a few minutes under the sun, she began to burn painfully. She took the bottle again and hurriedly rubbed lotion on her arms, legs, stomach, and chest. When she was done, she returned the bottle to Jaime.

“And your back?” he asked. “I can...” He cleared his throat. “I can do it, if you want.”

 _No, I don’t!_ Brienne thought. But turning his offer down could mean uncomfortable questions that she wasn’t prepared to answer. It was better to pretend that she wasn’t affected by any of this.

She turned around in her chair and took deep breaths until she felt the cold lotion on her skin. Jaime wasn’t shy like she was. He didn’t spread the sunblock with the tips of his fingers. Rather, he used his whole hand, massaging the lotion into every inch of her back, even under the straps of her bikini. His hands were hot, almost feverish. When he reached her lower back, Brienne would have done anything to make him keep going.

“Gods,” she heard him breathe.

“What?”

“Your back.”

Brienne flinched. It was disgusting, she knew. Jaime must have been regretting coming to a place like this with someone like her. What would the other guests think?

“What do you to do tone your lats?” he asked.

She twisted around to look at him. “What?”

He was still touching her. He squeezed the muscles on either side of her mid-back. “You’re rock-hard, Brienne,” he said, with some admiration. “How do you do it?”

“Pullups,” she gasped. “Three sets of fifteen reps.”

With almost a sob, he leaned forward until their lips crashed together. His hands never stopped stroking the muscles of her back. “By the gods, Brienne, stop torturing me.”

Brienne was confused. “What?”

Jaime inched closer until she felt something hard against her thigh. Jaime’s eyes shone with lust.

“Can we go back to our room?”

“Okay,” was all she could say.


	4. Reluctance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is in love with his best friend. Jaime doesn’t know what to do.

Jaime had spent an hour in his car, trying to convince himself to cross the street and go to Brienne.

He was in love with his best friend. He’d known it since the day he’d woken from the coma caused by the accident that took his right hand. When Dr. Qyburn told him what had happened, Jaime had only thought two things: first, that Brienne must have been worried sick about him, and second, that it would have been terrible to have died without looking into her astonishing eyes one last time.

For months, he’d struggled against his feelings. Brienne had been his best friend, partner, and confidant for many years. He couldn’t be in love with her. Romance and all it entailed—sex, arguments, jealousy, and the inevitable break-up—would ruin a friendship that was as vital to him as air. Brienne would end up loathing him. Jaime, on the other hand, could never hate her, but he knew splitting up with Brienne would shred his heart permanently.

He hadn’t been successful. Brienne had visited him at the hospital every single day. Then, she’d gone with him to his physical therapy appointments. She gave him encouragement, support, compassion, tenderness, and patience. Without her, he couldn’t have gotten past the loss of his right hand or improved the skills of his left one.

With every passing day, he loved her more and felt more afraid. He didn’t want to lose her, but he couldn’t live without her, _all_ of her. Being just friends was becoming unbearable.

How could he watch her lips without kissing them or her breasts without touching them? How could he go to bed every night without having her in his arms or wake up without seeing her next to him? How could he look into those blue eyes without telling her how much he loved her?

Something had to change. That was why he’d gone there that night. He’d knock on her door and say: “Brienne, I love you with everything I am. Please, give me a chance.” He prayed to the gods—to the old and the new, to R’hllor and the Black Goat and the Lion of Night—that was enough.

Finally, he stepped out of the car, went up to the third floor, and knocked three times.

After a few moments, Brienne opened the door and gave him a surprised smile.

“Jaime, what are you doing here?”

Jaime took a deep breath and began to speak.


	5. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime make a fatal mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead. Sorry. Couldn't come up with anything else for the "Betrayal" prompt.

****It was a mistake. They had drunk too much and weren’t thinking logically. They only reacted to the primitive and elemental instinct that made one seek the other’s gaze out in editorial meetings, the same instinct that made her have indecent dreams about Jaime every night.

That Friday, Jaime had walked her to her apartment, a few blocks away from the pub where they’d met up with their friends. He’d made some silly joke, and Brienne had been shaking in laughter so much, she couldn’t put the key into the lock.

Jaime had leaned in to help her, but only succeeded in pressing her against the door. The movement had surprised her, and she’d frozen in place. She’d never had Jaime so close. Suddenly, Jaime had been kissing her neck and touching her body. One hand had been kneading her breast while the other had lowered until cupping her cunt. There, in the hallway, where her neighbors could see, he’d brought her to an orgasm that had left her knees weak and her heart pumping at high speed.

What they did that night couldn’t be called _making love._ It was too fast, rough, and dirty. They fucked on the kitchen floor, then they moved to the bedroom, where Brienne took him into her mouth before they fucked a second time.

In the morning, Brienne woke sore and alone. If it hadn’t been for the smell of sex on the sheets, she would have thought it had all been a dream.

She didn’t hear from him until Wednesday. Brienne had spent all week watching him with his cousin Cersei around the magazine, and praying to the seven gods for a lightning bolt to smite her where she stood. Finally, Jaime went to her and asked to speak. He couldn’t look her in the eye.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” he said, rubbing his eyes. He looked tired. “Cersei and I are getting married.”

Brienne nodded weakly.

“Don’t worry. I’ve forgotten all about it.”

The smile Jaime gave her carved itself into her heart.

“Thanks, Brienne. You’re the best.”

That Friday, exactly one week after that fatal mistake, she tendered her resignation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I'm stealing from myself](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1778137).


	6. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime writes letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more angst. Sorry again.

Jaime forced himself to write letters. Dozens of them. Despite the years, his left hand had never gained the skill of his right. Writing was a good exercise. It was also a way to keep himself from forgetting. The years passed and memories turned fuzzy. He wrote about everything and nothing, about the trivialities of life on Casterly Rock, of how boring his captivity was, of how Sansa and Tyrion’s children had grown, of how much he loved the poppies that grew on the cliff outside his window. He wrote about Cersei and the war and what little he could remember about his mother. He wrote about the Maid of Tarth and how he wished he had kissed her when he’d had the chance. Then, he sent them far away, to the only person who could read them without judging him.

The last time he'd seen her, her straw blonde hair had been in a braid, but some strands had escaped and danced defiantly in the wind. She’d worn a white linen shirt and grey breeches folded to her knees so she could step into the water without getting them wet. She’d been barefoot and her toes had sunk into the wet sand. And her eyes... it was so strange that the color of her eyes was the same as the color of the waters surrounding the island, as if she’d been born of the sea, with the blue armor and soft-strong hands and shining eyes and all.

Jaime had been struck by how young she’d looked in that moment, and that was how he remembered her always. Young. A little sad but hopeful. They’d already received the news that the queen would lock him up in Casterly Rock instead of executing him, and Brienne had said she would like to visit him one day. Jaime imagined her reading his letters by the sea, holding the pages tightly so the breeze didn’t blow them away. He tried to conceal his despair so she didn’t worry, because he knew she’d run to his side at the first sign of unhappiness.

Sometimes, he received a reply. He always burned it without opening it. He only had to see the careful, masculine writing on the outside to know its contents. It was only a repetition of what he already knew, an unwelcome reminder.

Jaime supposed he needed to stop one day. He’d never met the Lord of Tarth, but if he was anything like his mother, Jaime knew the letters from the lonely prisoner of Casterly Rock opened wounds that would never heal. Jaime didn’t care. It gave him perverse satisfaction—and some comfort—to know there was someone else in the world who missed her as much as he did.


	7. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime ponder the possibilities.

They’d been doing the same thing for hours. Jaime thought they should invoke the loophole in the 1912 Shipping Act, and Brienne insisted that the precedent established in _Crown v. 275 barrels of Dornish wine_ was a better course of action.  _And a more ethical one_ , she thought, though she’d never say so in front of Jaime. He’d make fun of her for still holding on to her law school ideals.

Brienne tossed the pencil on the table with a sigh. It bounced off the casebooks and rolled across the table until it dropped from the edge.

“I’m hungry,” she said. As if seconding her motion, her stomach growled.

“Do you want to order delivery?”

Brienne shrugged. What she wanted was to go home. It was almost ten and she was tired. But she knew they weren’t going anywhere until they finished the case brief they had to give Catelyn.

Jaime went outside the conference room and returned with a handful of restaurant menus.

“A Dothraki place opened last week,” he said. “The horse barbecue is amazing.”

Brienne couldn’t hide the grimace of disgust, and Jaime laughed.

“As fussy as ever, counselor.”

“And you’re as insufferable as ever,” snapped Brienne. She tore the menus from his hand and flipped through them until she found the one from Illyrio’s. “I want the lamb gyro with tzatziki, saffron rice, and a serving of dolmades.”

When she returned the menu, she realized he was eyeing her strangely. “What?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“That’s _my_ usual. Did you copy it?”

Brienne scoffed. “Please. I live next door to the restaurant. I always order the same thing.”

Jaime grinned. “Sounds like we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Over my dead body, Lannister,” she scowled.

Jaime laughed delightedly. “You couldn’t fall in love with me? Even if I gave you twenty servings of dolmades?”

Brienne shook her head, fighting against the smile that was about to take over her lips. “Even if you went to Pentos and learned how to make them yourself. I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“No, not at all. I couldn’t fall in love with you either. You’re too...”

“Ugly?” she said, bitterly. She wasn’t surprised that Jaime thought that way, but it still stung a little, for some reason. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Jaime frowned. “No, Brienne,” he murmured. “Stubborn. Honorable. Idealistic. Not ugly.”

“I can’t change any of those things,” she said, as an embarrassing flush spread over her face.

“I guess we’re hopeless, then,” Jaime said, with something that sounded like regret. Brienne couldn’t tell whether it was real or fake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A happy ending is strongly implied.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and leaving such lovely comments! I love writing in this fandom because you're all so damn nice.


End file.
